Let us be blunt. This is another uncomfortable truth that must be expressed—not in parables, not in tongues, but in words drawn from a clear and unburdened conscience. South Sudanese have suffered many afflictions. One disgusting and persistent affliction that has created a hard-to-heal wound is the belief that government appointments are tribal trophies. It is a belief that each appointed minister carries the banner of clan or tribe, and each dismissed minister marks the humiliation of a community. This sounds like an illusion, but it is the true perception on the streets of Juba and other towns of South Sudan. I see it as a vice, a quiet poison that sets a bad precedent. It has grown deep roots; it has shaped the way citizens complain and the way elders summon the authority. It is now the new normal—the way appointments are interpreted not as services to the nation, but as enrichment for specific villages.
As a matter of truth, this perception has no place in any modern country or state. The art of governance is designed such that each branch of a government has a well-defined function. For example, members of a parliament represent constituencies as mandated by the constitution; they are the representatives of their constituencies in terms of local needs. But those in the executive are not community delegates. They are the country’s most trusted minds, comprised of disciplined political cadres who have proven loyalty to the national vision and technocrats with a special ability to understand the architecture of governance, policy, and national development.
By the understanding of South Sudanese, evidenced by the perception described, this sacred responsibility has been reduced to a communal lottery. Many ask, “Why was our son not appointed? Why did their daughter get a ministry?” Nobody asks, “Does she have the competency? Is he endowed with hard work and discipline? Do they have the ethical stamina to handle resources and power responsibly?” These are vital questions. Aren’t they?
From this understanding, I can deduce that our problem is not only political structure; it is rooted in our culture. Over the years, many of us have come to see government as a place to eat, not a place to serve. Families and clans gather to celebrate while expecting dividends. Communities wait for harvests from one officeholder to another, and they are not demanding national progress from institutions. Such an attitude has resulted in the replacement of service with entitlement.
Another compounding matter is the “revolving door of appointments.” I know of many wonderful South Sudanese who were appointed into the government. However, a good person of this kind enters the office with a vision, but before they can even breathe or start the job, they hear the footsteps of gossipers behind them. Rumors begin to circulate, the whisperers multiply, and rivals become emboldened while sharpening their tongues. A minister, undersecretary, or director under such intense pressure will not manage to design policy; instead, they will choose to design a survival strategy. They no longer think in terms of years; they think of weeks. They do not protect the country; they protect themselves.
This kind of insecurity, brought about by an insecure job, becomes the root of corruption. The person who fears the eventualities of tomorrow will steal today.
Having made this account of the events contributing to our country’s regress, I would like to ask those who sit near the president to tell him this straight truth: job security is not a luxury. It is an anti-corruption strategy—a functional strategy that eases his work on matters of corruption. The stable government official can dream big. The fearful one will steal and hide.
If our president wants a nation that serves its people, he must free the appointed leaders from the terror of constant dismissal, and he must also free our communities from the illusion that their destinies are tied to specific appointments. If he takes these steps, the fearful executive will emerge from survival mode and provide the services our country needs.
Till then, yours truly, Mr. Teetotaler!
The writer, Dr. Sunday de John, holds MBA and Bachelor of Medicine and Bachelor of Surgery (MBChB) from the University of Nairobi, Faculty of Business and Management Sciences and Faculty of Medicine respectively. He is the current Chairman of the South Sudan United Front-Progressive and can be reached via drsundayalong4@gmail.com
The views expressed in ‘opinion’ articles published by Radio Tamazuj are solely those of the writer. The veracity of any claims made is the responsibility of the author, not Radio Tamazuj.
